Hey! So, I know it's been a while, but I promise to make the next chapter even more super awesome in return for the lateness of this, and for how short it is. Cause it's really short. Hope you guys enjoy! Please review! They're like crack to me!;)
Chapter Two: Run This TownWhen Stiles woke up, he noticed two things: 1. He wasn't on his floor like he had been when he fell asleep, and 2. His bed was dipping on the other side.
Stiles poked the person who was causing his comfy bed to incline. It wasn't Derek; the boy on the other side was blond, curly-haired and lanky. Isaac.
"Isaac, the hell you doing here?" Stiles mumbled sleepily. He pulled the covers off the sleeping werewolf, who emitted a loud snuffle of disappointment as he was woken up. Isaac turned to grin tiredly at Stiles, who just glared at the blond.
"Derek dropped me here at around five a.m.," Isaac explained, rubbing his ice blue eyes. "Scott wasn't home and his mom was at work, so I felt like I was intruding when I was at their house. So, I went to Derek's, but he said that there wasn't really a place to sleep, and, I mean, who would want to sleep there. Place gives me the creeps."
"So he brought you here?" Stiles huffed.
"Duh," Isaac smirked. "Sorry if I'm kind of intruding on your summer break."
"Nah, dude, it's fine. You're welcome here anytime," Stiles smiled. "You want breakfast? I was gonna make pancakes."
"Derek told me that your dad told him that you're not allowed to cook. Or, well, be in the kitchen while food is being made. He said that you and Scott had done something unmention-able and shudder-inducing. Derek's words, not your dad's." Isaac slipped out of bed with the grace of a wolf and grinned at Stiles boyishly. It was sometimes hard to remember that Isaac was once a lonely kid like Stiles, who until more recently had been beaten by his father. His father who was now dead because of the Kanima.
"You gonna come? I'll make pancakes for us," Isaac chuckled. "Though, I'm not much of a cook myself. You should see Peter. He's like a friggin' Martha Stewart."
"Peter?" Stiles asked, incredulously. He stood and stretched his back carefully, not wanting the bruises that he'd gotten while playing lacrosse to get pushed the wrong way. They were just starting to heal.
"Yeah," Isaac laughed. "He's insanely good. He made this chicken pineapple thing. I swear, that was the best moment of my life."
"Best moment of your life so far," Stiles amended.
Stiles led Isaac down to the kitchen where they found Derek making pancakes.
"I could hear you guys talking about pancakes. I figured I'd make some for the pack. Jackson, Lydia, and Scott will be here soon. Possibly Allison if Scott picks her up, which I'm almost positive he will. Erica and Boyd will be running here as punishment for leaving and trying to come back."
"Harsh. I hate running," Isaac muttered, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on Stiles' dining room table.
The sound of Stiles' front door opening echoed through the house and Scot's voice rang out.
"STILES! ARE YOU AWAKE?" Scott scrambled through the kitchen, completely bypassing Stiles, whom he had almost run over. Scott paused when he hit the stairs and turned, frowning at the sight of Isaac, who was falling asleep on Derek's shoulder as the older man made chocolate chip pancakes and stared reproachfully at Isaac's head.
Scott padded into the kitchen and rubbed sleep out of his eyes.
"Hey," Stiles said softly. "You didn't have to yell."
Scott rolled his eyes. "Well, normally you aren't up at seven am. I have to wake you up with a bullhorn half the time."
"Yeah, but I had company," Stiles said, shooting a looked at Derek and Isaac. The young blond gave Stiles a sleepy smirk.
"Incorrigible," Stiles muttered to himself.
"Huh?" Scott's head tipped to the side like a confused puppy dog.
"Never mind," Stiles huffed. "Why did you need me awake at this time?"
"Oh! Well it was about my date with Allison last night," Scott blushed, looking down at his toes like they were the most interesting thing in the world.
"OH!" Stiles grinned. "Did you get it in?"
"Okay, please shut up now, or I'm seriously going to vomit into your pancakes," Derek grumbled as he shoved Isaac's head off his shoulder and the boy crumpled to the floor in a snoring heap.
Scott frowned at Isaac, who was blinking his eyes rapidly to wake up. "You shouldn't be so mean, Derek." He then turned to Stiles and nodded to the stairs.
Stiles raced behind Scott up the stairs and closed his bedroom door.
"So dude, what happened? I thought you two broke up? When did you get back together exactly?" Stiles asked.
"Slow down, Stiles," Scott stated. "We got back together, but she's not telling her dad. It was two nights ago that we got back together and yes, I've… gone there with her, but that's not the point."
"Then what happened?" Stiles whisper-yelled.
"Well, I just found out that her mom died. She killed herself, but Deaton thinks that she was bitten before she committed suicide. He also thinks Derek did it by accident. Now, why are Isaac and Derek here so early in the morning?"
"Whoa, hold up! Derek bit her?" Stiles gasped. "Dude, that's just… weird."
"Mrs. Argent had tied me up and tried to kill me with those marijuana smoke machines but she filled it with wolfsbane instead of pot. I was too weak to defend myself, so I called for Derek. Well, I howled. You know how it is. But Derek showed up and that's all I remember. I know he was there when I woke up in Deaton's office, and he had gotten hurt. Other than that, everything's kinda hazy."
"When was that?" Stiles asked.
"The night of the rave, why?"
"That's why Allison went all crazy-hunter-killer-nutso on us! The night that the Kanima and Matt locked us up in the police station, she was trying to kill everyone; Derek, Isaac, Boyd, Erica… Jackson. She wanted revenge. Revenge against Derek. It makes sense now!" Stiles exclaimed.
"I guess it makes more sense. But why didn't she try to kill me? I'm part of Derek's pack, too… sort of."
Stiles stared at his best friend blankly, finally giving him a 'why the hell do you think she didn't try to kill you?' look.
"What?" Scott asked.
Stiles knew that Derek was listening. He also knew that the man was most likely rolling his eyes in exasperation at Scott's idiocy.
"Dude, she's like, in love with you. That's why," Stiles eventually said, mentally rolling his eyes and sighing. There was also a face-palm moment in there, but he settled for closing his eyes and breathing it out. Hopefully Scott's IQ of 10 wouldn't rub off on him.
"Oh, yeah, well…" Scott trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "So… Derek and Isaac?"
"Derek was here last night, just being a douche, and Isaac needed a place to sleep since Derek kicked him out of his terribly grungy half-house half-run-down-shack thing he has in the woods. Typical Derek," Stiles shrugged.
"Ah, well why didn't Isaac sleep at my house? He's basically living with me and my mom," Scott pouted.
"He didn't want to intrude when both of you were out of the house," Stiles explained.
"Oh, too bad, I kind of missed his snoring," Scott sighed.
"Com'on. I want pancakes. Even though Derek probably purposefully burned the crap out of them," Stiles groaned.
"I don't think he would. He doesn't really like fire if you've noticed. Or anything that's burned. Plus, he makes a mean grilled cheese. I only know this because I was totally starving when I was in Deaton's office one day and there was a half a sandwich in his mini-fridge that said 'Derek's food' on it. So I ate it," Scott grinned.
Stiles looked at his friend, wondering if the kid had some sort of death wish.
"You do know we heard pretty much everything you guys said up there," Isaac said through a mouthful of pancakes.
"Oh, uh…" Scott blushed.
Stiles gave up trying to resist mocking his friend and rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Wow, Scott. You and those werewolf senses. You never miss a thing."
"You're just mad that those drag queens at Jungle were giving you some heavy petting," Scott laughed. "And that I got attention from a guy at the bar."
"It did answer my question of whether I was attractive to gay guys, though," Stiles pointed out.
"Yeah. Weird guys who dress in drag seem to adore you," Scott chuckled. Stiles shoved his head into the plate of pancakes.
"Don't play with your food, 'cause I'm not making more," Derek mumbled from across the kitchen. "And Stiles?"
"Hmm?" Stiles asked as he grabbed milk from the fridge. In return, he got his head slammed in the door. "OW! What was—?"
"You know what that was for," Derek grumbled, smirking internally.
"You're such a Sourwolf," Stiles huffed, rubbing his head and wincing. Damn werewolves were going to be the death of him.
AN: Okay, so really quick I just wanted to say that I am not offended or weirded out by drag queens in any way. I just think that for the purpose of keeping this story mostly realistic and true to the characters that were originally created, Scott is freaked out by them. Glad I cleared that up!